


Ease One Life the Aching

by Elennare



Category: High Rollers DnD (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, past bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elennare/pseuds/Elennare
Summary: A chance attack from some thugs leaves Lucius injured and brings back bad memories of his childhood bullies. Luckily, Quill is there to take care of him.
Relationships: Lucius Virion-Elluin Elenasto/Qillek Ad Khollar
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Ease One Life the Aching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dementorsatemysoup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/gifts).



> For a tumblr prompt from dementorsatemysoup - prompt was "The one stumbling to the other’s front door after getting hurt/beaten up etc."
> 
> Title comes from Emily Dickinson's [If I can stop one heart from breaking](https://www.edickinson.org/editions/1/image_sets/236193).

Quill blinks awake, dragged out of his deep sleep by an insistent tapping at the door of his inn room. Stumbling out of bed, he walks over and quietly asks, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Birdie… help…”

As soon as he hears his boyfriend’s strained voice, Quill hurries to unbolt the door and open it - and gasps in horror. Lucius’s face is bruised and bloodied, his clothes muddy, and he’s clutching his side as if it hurts badly. 

“What - what happened? No, never mind that - are you all - no of course you’re not all right, what's worst?” Quill asks frantically, pulling him into the room.

“My ribs… kicked… really hurts,” Lucius gasps out. 

“Right, let me…” 

Carefully moving Lucius’s hand from where it’s covering his side, Quill replaces it with his own and feels for his ribs. Lucius winces at the touch, despite how light Quill’s trying to keep it. But to Quill’s deep relief, it doesn't feel like any bones are broken - that he wouldn't be able to heal right now. He’s so low on magic, after everything they faced that day, but he still has a spell or two left in him. With a prayer to H’Esper, he sends the strongest healing magic he can muster into Lucius, who sighs in clear relief as it passes through him. 

“Thank you, Birdie, that’s so much better,” he says, standing straighter. 

Quill looks him over. The pain in his ribs seem to have eased, but the bruises and cuts on his face are still there. Quill draws on his magic again and watches most of them vanish, leaving only dirt and dried blood behind. They shouldn’t have done so if there were still serious injuries remaining, the healing spell would have targeted those first, so he thinks Lucius should be fine now… Still, he wants to make sure.

“Let me check your ribs properly,” he says, reaching out to untie Lucius’s coat. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“The ribs were the worst, and everything feels fine now,” Lucius replies, while he helps open the elaborate fastenings. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Quill smiles slightly, but is more preoccupied with making sure Lucius is fully healed. “Does this hurt?” he asks, pushing up Lucius’s shirt and pressing his side, first gently, then prodding harder. Reassuringly, there’s no bruising visible, and Lucius doesn’t wince as he had before.

“No, not at all. I’m fine, Quill, I promise.”

Quill nods and pulls his hand back, letting the shirt drop. “What happened? Who hurt you? Are - are we being attacked?”

“No, don’t worry. I… It’s nothing really,” Lucius says.

Quill glares at him. “Nothing? Lucius, you said someone kicked you in the ribs! You were bleeding! That’s not nothing!”

“Fine, it’s not nothing, but it’s just… stupid.” Lucius sighs. “I couldn’t settle down to rest, so I thought I’d go for a walk, and I got jumped by some thugs. I suppose they thought I’d be an easy target, and I was… I didn’t even notice them until they’d knocked me to the ground, and at first I just froze… old habits, I guess.” He snorts in self-deprecation. “But then one of them kicked me, and the pain snapped me out of it. I hit them with some spells and they ran off, I think they weren’t expecting magic! I was stupid to go out alone and not pay attention to my surroundings, I know, but really, it wasn’t anything important.” He reaches up to push a strand of hair out of his face, and grimaces as his fingers brush dried mud. “Do you mind if I use your washbasin? I’m filthy.”

“Sit down and let me,” Quill says. “I want to check all the cuts are healed properly.”

Lucius nods and sits down on the bed, removing his muddy coat first. Quill takes the basin and washcloth that were laid ready for the next morning on the room’s chest of drawers, and carefully wipes Lucius’s face clean. To his relief, once the blood and dirt are removed, he can’t see even a scratch remaining. Only then, once he’s reassured on that point, does he return to Lucius’s earlier words. 

“It… it was important. You were hurt, Lucius,” he says softly. “That’s important to me.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Lucius replies. “I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

Quill sets the basin down, sits next to him, and takes his hand. “You don’t need to apologise for getting attacked! I don’t want you to be sorry, I just… are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have any other injuries?”

“I’m fine, really.” Lucius kisses the top of his head. “I have an amazing boyfriend who healed me.”

Quill smiles despite himself. “Well, as long as you’re fine…” Then he frowns, remembering something else Lucius said. “What did you mean, it was an old habit to freeze when you were attacked?”

“Oh… don’t worry about it, it doesn’t matter,” Lucius says with a would-be-casual shrug. Quill can see how tense he’s gone, though, how much of a lie that is.

“Lucius…” Quill sighs. “How many times tonight are you going to tell me important things don’t matter? If… if it’s something you don’t want to talk about right now, or at all, that’s fine, but tell me that! Don’t tell me it doesn’t matter when I can see that it does.”

“I… You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just…” Lucius pauses for a long moment, turning his head away from Quill, then continues. “I don't know if I've told you that some of the other elves used to bully me when I was a child?”

“You’ve mentioned it, but you’ve never really told me about it,” Quill says quietly. “Do… do you want to tell me about it now? You don’t have to.” From what Lucius has already said, he can easily put two and two together, and he guesses this will be a hard story to tell; but he hopes it will help Lucius to tell it. Hopes it will ease the pain in his face, in his voice, in every line of his body.

Lucius hesitates for a few seconds, then nods. “Yes… yes, I do. A lot of the other children used to make fun of me, they all thought I was weird. But there was a small group that went further… they used to… use me as a punching bag, essentially.”

“Oh, Lucius. I'm so sorry,” Quill whispers, moving closer and putting his wing around him. 

Lucius doesn't respond to the hug, sitting ramrod-stiff and staring straight ahead, still not looking at Quill. “I wasn't… wasn't strong enough to fight back. Even with magic, I didn't know much then… and the one time I did try, Bellenor twisted my arm back so hard I was scared he'd break it, so I never did it again. I'd just… curl up and try to shield myself, and hope they'd get bored quickly. I was… too weak, too pathetic, to do anything else.” 

“Don’t say that!” Quill exclaims, dropping the hug to cup Lucius's face instead, trying to bring it round to face him. “Lucius. Please. Look at me.”

For a second, Lucius keeps his head stiffly straight, then he sighs and turns to face Quill, expression frozen and lips pressed tightly together.

“You're not weak,” Quill tells him, staring into his eyes and willing him to believe it. “You're so strong! And you weren't weak then, you - you were a child! That … that should never have happened. I'm so sorry it did… Someone should have helped you, you shouldn't have had to deal with it alone. Didn't anyone see what was happening?”

“I did my best to hide it,” Lucius replies quietly, looking down. “I was… ashamed, I didn't want anyone to know… but my parents found out eventually, that's when Daddy hired Nanny, to protect me. To be strong for me…” 

“You weren't weak,” Quill insists. “Did… did your bullies tell you that you were?” Lucius's shudder confirms he's right, and he presses on, “They - they were the weak ones, bullying you as a group. Not you.”

“Nanny said that too,” Lucius says, eyes still lowered.

“Can't you believe her, then? Can't you believe me?” Quill pleads. “You're not weak, or - or pathetic, or whatever they told you. You're so strong, and brave, and amazing, and… I hate that they ever made you believe you're anything less. Can you believe me? Please?”

Lucius finally looks up at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Oh, Birdie… I… I'll try,” he chokes out, then starts crying, grabbing onto Quill and burying his face in his shoulder.

Quill wraps his wing around him and holds him close as he sobs. Part of him is so, so angry - at the bullies who hurt Lucius so badly, at the thugs whose attack brought all this to light, even at himself for never having asked before. But what Lucius needs now isn’t his anger, so he shoves it away (if he ever meets Bellenor again, though…). He’s not sure what he should say, what Lucius needs to hear the most, so he alternates his words - “it’s fine, you’re safe, I’m here”, and “you’re amazing, you’re wonderful, believe me”, and most of all “I love you, I love you, I love you”. Gradually, Lucius’s sobbing ceases, but Quill keeps holding him, and he keeps holding on to Quill.

At last, Lucius pulls back a little, though not so far as to break the hug. “Thank you, Quill,” he says, voice still shaky. “I’m sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Quill says, shifting so he can see Lucius’s face. It’s pale and tearstained, but his expression is more peaceful than it’s been all night. “Are you okay? Did… did it help, to talk about it?”

Lucius nods slowly. “Yes, I think it did.” He smothers a yawn. “It’s tired me out, too! And you must be tired as well, I should go back to my room…”

“Stay,” Quill says immediately, without even thinking about it. 

Lucius looks at him in surprise, colour rising to his cheeks. Aarakocra don’t blush, but Quill can feel his feathers starting to fluff out with the same embarrassment. Though they’ve been dating for a little while now, they’ve never yet shared a bed, even in the innocent sense Quill meant it (well, there was the Ironweald, but that was so long ago, and so different). 

“I - I just - I don’t want you to be alone - not unless - unless you want to be,” Quill stammers.

“I don’t. I really don’t,” Lucius answers at once. “I… I’ll just get my pyjamas.”

For a split second, Quill considers telling him not to bother. He’s deeply reluctant to let Lucius out of his sight, despite knowing it’s irrational and he’ll be safe inside the inn. He’s not entirely sure pyjamas are necessary either - not after all the times they’ve gone underwater adventuring with Lucius wearing nothing but his pants! But then he remembers how much that’s flustered him every time, and realises the alternative would be Lucius undressing here, which might just kill them both from sheer embarrassment. So he nods and goes to the door with Lucius, watching as he hurries along to his own room and waiting impatiently for him to come back.

Soon enough, Lucius returns, now pyjama-clad. Getting into bed is an awkward process; there’s quite a bit of nervous giggling, Lucius is blushing a bright red that clashes horribly with his pink pyjamas, and Quill feels like his feathers might never lie flat again. But at last they're both lying down, facing each other, almost but not quite touching. As they settle down, there’s a moment of strained silence.

“So all I had to do to get you into bed was tell you a sad story, hmm?” Lucius says with a weak chuckle, clearly trying to dispel the awkwardness.

It works, and Quill laughs too. “I think you'll find you're in _my_ bed,” he points out.

Lucius grins and flicks a hand dismissively. “Details, details.”

Quill laughs again, but then a tendril of worry seeps into his mind. He'd thought they were both happy with the pace of their relationship, but has he been wrong? Has Lucius been wanting things to move faster? It was a joke, he knows, but was there more behind it?

“You're worrying,” Lucius murmurs, reaching out to caress Quill’s forehead and the frown forming there. “Why are you worrying? Everything's fine. I'm fine.”

“I… have I… is this…” Quill stumbles over his words, not sure how to ask. “Have we… been going too slow?”

“Quill, no, not at all,” Lucius says, with such evident sincerity that Quill’s fears vanish at once. “It's been perfect, it is perfect. It was just a silly joke, I wanted to make us both relax - not make you worry!” He moves closer, kissing Quill’s forehead, then his cheek, and wrapping an arm around his waist. “This is perfect. You’re perfect. I love you.” 

Quill hugs him back, taking a deep breath and releasing it, letting out all the tension that had been building. “I love you too.”

Lucius shifts a little, so he can pillow his head on Quill’s shoulder. “Your feathers are so soft, Birdie… I’ll be able to rest now.”

Quill runs his hand gently through Lucius’s long hair. He can feel his eyes closing of their own accord, but forces them open again, wanting to enjoy this just a little longer. “So will I.”


End file.
